


Inextricable

by Opora



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, References to Depression, god loves crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 22:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20443331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opora/pseuds/Opora
Summary: The Almighty responds to a demon's prayer.





	Inextricable

**Author's Note:**

> At some point, it occurred to me that since God is the narrator, our view of Crowley is filtered through Her view of Crowley...and this piece has been slowly percolating in the back of my mind ever since.

Many people believe that I created humankind in my image, and they would mostly be correct. Humanity is many things, but at its core, humanity is creative and compassionate and curious. Humanity is also rather fond of categorization, and that is where they differ from me significantly.

Ever since the beginning of things, people have liked to divide all of creation neatly into categories: dark and light; man and woman; good and evil. But the world is a lot more complicated than people like to believe.

Take, for example, water. Water is a simple compound that makes up more than half of every living organism and covers most of the Earth. You would think that something so pervasive, so fundamental, could not be divided and regrouped, and yet many humans would tell you that boiling water belongs in a different category than ice, which in itself belongs in a different category than vapor, even though the essence of all of these is exactly the same. Where, precisely, is the line between comfortingly warm and scalding? Chilling and merely tepid? How big and how numerous must the bubbles be before we consider water to be boiling instead of simply hot? At what point does ice stop being ice, and turn into slush instead? You see? Humans will come up with infinite categories and sub-categories, pretending that by identifying and precisely naming each one, they can begin to understand the ineffable universe around them. Perhaps it would be helpful to strip away some of those categories and put it all back into perspective: the same water that allows crops to grow can also destroy entire nations; the same water that washes you clean can also drown you.

You see, Crowley, it is the same with you. This darkness is part of you. That is not to say that the darkness caused you, but rather, that it is simply inextricable from your essence. If I were to carve out the void between the stars, the universe would implode. If I were to pull all the seeds out of the darkness of the earth, the world would be in famine. If I were to coax you out of the shadows, you wouldn’t be Crowley at all.

I know there are many days you would rather not be Crowley at all. You’ve convinced yourself that the world doesn’t want your darkness, but who told you that the darkness was bad? Darkness is the reason humanity filled the skies with stories. It is the way new life emerges from the earth. It is warmth wrapped in a blanket. It is rest at the end of a long day.

Just because the ones who claim to speak for me say that you’re unworthy does not mean that you are. That’s the danger in hanging around the wrong people, Crowley-- their lies can be very convincing. They told you that you’re small, unworthy, despicable. They called you a demon, and you believed them--for once, no questions asked. As for being unforgivable? You came up with that one in all on your own; they didn’t even have to say a word.

I know that it was never much of a stretch for you to believe you belong in Hell. I have seen you wake up from a nightmare in a cold sweat. I seen you lie awake for hours, telling yourself over and over that this must be hell. I can see that sometimes, when you look in the mirror, hate doesn’t seem like a strong enough word for what you see staring back.

But Crowley, I am The Almighty.

I created you.

I know you.

I love you.

I can see you clearly, even when you can’t.

I heard you call yourself pathetic every time you returned to the theater hoping a particular angel might have had the same idea. You’d never admit it, but the reason you don’t like the gloomy ones is because you see yourself in all of them-- every tragic hero, every selfish act. I see you in those plays, too: I see you in their deep understanding of human nature; I see you in the way humans have discovered how to make magic out of words; I see you in the eyes of a whole new group of students each year, surprised to find themselves reflected in the pages of an anthology.

When you think back on the night you delivered the boy, you see carelessness, incompetence, eleven years of stress and panic that could have been avoided if you had only been a little less...Crowley. But, if you watch closely, you will see something else entirely. Turn your head a little to the left-- there-- and see Sister Mary Loquacious. She is not nearly as oblivious as everyone thinks, but she pretends to be anyways, because she’s afraid that if she thinks too hard about the usefulness of her life, she will not be able to come to terms with what she sees. Now, if you can look from my vantage point, you will see that the very same night you thought you mucked up worse than anyone else in the universe could have, your presence has shown Sister Mary the difference that a single life can make. You’ve given her a glimmer of hope that maybe her life does have a purpose, even if she can’t quite see it yet.

When you look back on your time with Warlock, you see all the ways you rubbed off on him, all the little quirks you wished you had not passed on to him, all the words and moments that will come up in a therapist’s office several years later. You can only see all the ways you’ve failed him, but when I look back on those years, those are not the moments I see. Instead, when I look back on those years, I see someone who recognized a child in need of love, and did everything in his power to give it to him. I see a child who had a growing hole in his life, and you, who immediately set to work filling it in the only way you knew how.

You can hardly bear to think about the airfield. When you do--when you can’t push the memory out of your head fast enough-- you are burning with the knowledge that if it really had all been up to you, every good thing in the universe would have been destroyed; that when it came time for you to prove yourself, you froze. In that frozen moment, you see weakness, but I see unfathomable strength. You thought you were inadequate, but gave yourself anyways. You believed you were unlovable, but loved anyways. You had borne witness to the worst of humanity, and still were willing to fight on their behalf. And there in that moment--when time itself could not keep pace with the intensity of how much you cared--that is when the world was saved.

Can you start to see the way that I do? When I look at you, I do not see a demon. I do not see a fallen angel. When I look at you, I simply see Crowley. You gave the humans the ability to look at someone the world has decided is hard and hostile and dark, and find in them, instead, softness, beauty, love. You have stood with countless people who believe themselves to be worthless vermin, writhing in the dirt, and allowed them to see their own beauty reflected in you. You have shown them that the parts of themselves they believe mark them as demons are the very same parts that make them so beautiful. You have shown them that those parts of themselves are intertwined, inextricable, ineffable.

**Author's Note:**

> I am brand new to ao3, so if there are ways that I can make better use of the tags, notes, summary, etc., please (kindly) let me know.


End file.
